


Here There Be Dragons

by testosterone_tea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, Dragon Sherlock Holmes, Knight John Watson, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-02 12:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/pseuds/testosterone_tea
Summary: Sherlock is turned into a dragon just before his marriage to Princess Molly. This turn of events causes Sherlock and Molly to run away together (not in a romantic way, more in an adventure way) to a deserted island. Mycroft wants his brother back, and he hires John Watson, Knight Extraordinaire to do the deed.





	1. In Which Sherlock is Turned into a Dragon and Runs Away from Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. I'm just poking the waters to see who is interested in a silly fic I've been thinking of writing while I try to get back into more serious Sherlock headspace. I realize I haven't written Sherlock fic in over a year, but I think I want to try my hand at it again. Maybe I can even finish Stranger in a Strange Land and Towards Break of Day (finally after years and years).
> 
> Note: this fic is supposed to be ridiculous and comedic, so don't expect much!

Sherlock blinked in surprise and thought to himself that he should probably be far more upset by this turn of events.

"You will never be able to break the curse by yourself!" the witch crowed in triumph.

"Guards! Arrest her!"

Before anyone could move, the Woman had disappeared in a puff of green smoke. The guards ran towards the lingering cloud anyway, even though it was clear that Irene Adler had gotten clean away.

Sherlock sneezed.

Princess Molly was being comforted by her parents in the background, while Mycroft shook his head and looked up at Sherlock despairingly.

"You know that it's not my fault," Sherlock said petulantly.

"This time it's not your fault," Mycroft admitted begrudgingly. "Usually when there are angry witches or warlocks banging at our door, it's because of you."

"It usually isn't witches or warlocks," Sherlock felt he needed to point out.

"Ogres, elves and trolls are no better," Mycroft said, glaring at Sherlock. "If I didn't know better, I'd be certain that this was some sort of plan of yours to get out of marrying Princess Molly."

It wasn't, but he couldn't have planned a bigger or better diversion himself. It was even better than he could even imagine, because he wasn't the one that had planned it.

"How do you know it wasn't me?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, her parents had a little dispute with the Woman at some point or another, but they thought she'd forgotten about it and didn't realize she'd been planning her revenge ever since they wronged her."

"I still could have done it," Sherlock said sulkily.

"Now we're going to have to renegotiate those marriage plans and find a curse-breaker!" Mycroft rubbed his temple and sighed.

"Renegotiate?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Well, obviously we can't expect the princess to marry a dragon," Mycroft gestured at him.

Sherlock hummed in satisfaction and flexed his wings, "No, I don't suppose you could."

Mycroft frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose technically I could, because it's their fault this happened in the first place, and I could insist..."

"But you won't," Sherlock said hurriedly.

"No, I won't," Mycroft nodded. "This whole incident means I can pressure them into forgiving our trading debt in exchange for not holding a grudge over your current state."

"I can't believe you nearly made me get married over a trading debt," Sherlock snorted, and a tiny lick of flames curled out over his snout.

"It was a big trading debt," Mycroft retorted.

Sherlock snorted again, and a large spout of steam issued from his nostrils. He watched it avidly and thought of all the experiments he could carry out now. He'd always wanted to experiment on dragons, but had deemed it too dangerous before. Now, he had all the data he could ever need.

"I'm a steam breather," Sherlock noted, realizing that his jaws were dripping boiling hot water all over the palace floor.

Mycroft obviously realized what he was thinking and rolled his eyes. "Don't get too excited. I'm going to return you to your proper state as soon as I can find the best curse-breaker in the region."

Sherlock tried to roll his eyes and found that dragon eyes didn't quite go all the way around. He sighed, and a jet of steam rushed out of his mouth, and Mycroft had to jump back to avoid being boiled.

"Watch where you're doing that," Mycroft said.

"I can't go back to my laboratory," Sherlock realized in horror.

"That's the least of our problems!" Mycroft said testily.

Mycroft could go and deal with the country's problems without Sherlock, as far as Sherlock was concerned. His biggest problem was that he was far too big to get into his laboratory to get his notes and equipment to do experiments with.

He looked down at his clawed front paw and realized that even if he could get down there, he couldn't hold onto a pen.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Sherlock complained loudly. "How am I supposed to conduct experiments in this state?"

"You will not be conducting experiments at all," Mycroft admonished him. "Your experiments are generally very destructive, and that was when you were human! I imagine that experiments involving dragons would bring about ruin to the kingdom."

"Fine!" Sherlock said. "I'll experiment somewhere else."

"You will not!" Mycroft snapped. "You have to stay here so that we can get a curse breaker to turn you back to normal!"

"Just try and make me!" Sherlock snarled, accidentally splashing even more boiling water over the marble floor.

It turned out that Mycroft could stop him, actually. He had a pet wizard named Anderson who knew how to do magic. Not enough magic that he could break the curse on Sherlock, of course, but enough to confine Sherlock to the castle. Sherlock was displeased, but there was nothing he could do. Mycroft tried to assure him that Anderson was working to break the curse, but as of yet, there was nothing.

Sherlock moped in the courtyard of the castle, where Anderson had confined him. It was very dull. He'd tried shooting boiling water at the walls, but it wasn't much use against solid rock. He had resigned himself to being bored to death when he heard someone calling at the gate.

It was Princess Molly.

"Oh, you," he said, disappointed. "What do you want?"

"There's no need to be so rude," Molly said. "I've come to break you out."

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock asked, with a sigh that spilled hot water over his jaws. "I don't believe you even can do that."

"I have half a mind to leave you here and just run away by myself!" Molly snapped. "But I need you, and you need me."

"You're running away?" Sherlock asked, interest piqued.

"Of course I am," Molly said. "Now that you're not an eligible prince anymore, my parents are trying to marry me off to this old man. So I must run away, and you want to escape as well, so I think our interests are well suited."

"You don't want to marry me still, do you?" Sherlock asked fretfully. "Only, I'm not very much interested in people of the female persuasion."

"And I'm not interested in a dragon," Molly shot back. "I overheard you the other day about experiments. I'd love to help you with those."

"And you can write the results down," Sherlock mused. "I still don't believe you can get me out, however. You're not a mage."

"Anderson isn't terrible clever, you know," Molly said. "Just the other day, he managed to turn one of the guard sergeants into a frog while trying to come up with a solution for your problem."

"Which one?" Sherlock asked gleefully, knowing full well that Anderson was almost completely incompetent at the best of times.

"Donovan."

Sherlock giggled, sending a hiss of steam up into the air.

"So, I stole his notes, and I've determined that all you have to do is destroy the pattern made by the stones he's drawn runes on that make your prison," Molly said.

"I know that," Sherlock snapped. "I've tried melting the runes off the rock already, and that hasn't worked."

"You can also move them out of alignment with each other," Molly suggested.

"Sherlock shot her an exasperated look. "I do know that, I just can't move the rocks they're on."

"Why not?"

"They're too big!"

"Sherlock," Molly said, glaring up at him. "It may have escaped your notice, but you're a dragon.You're bigger than those rocks by quite a lot!"

Molly had a point.

With a lot of grumbling regarding physical labour, Sherlock managed to move one of the rocks, and soon both he and Molly were free of the castle and in the air.

"You really don't want to marry me?" Sherlock asked, just to make sure.

"Quite," Molly said. "Where are we going?"

"An island," Sherlock said. "In the middle of the Wasting Sea. I daresay if anyone manages to reach us there, they rather deserve to find us."

They flew on over the deadly, frothing waves, while in the distance, a huge island rose up in front of them, backlit by the setting sun.

Molly turned out to be rather useful after all.

Sherlock had expected her not to be, but he could hardly refuse to take her along with him after the service she had done him (however small – he would have figured out how to escape on his own eventually). But she had proved all of his expectations wrong, and he considered that possibly, if they had been married, it wouldn't have been completely awful.

The first night hadn't been their finest. They had arrived on the island right before a terrible storm which had sent huge waves dashing against the tall cliffs and wind whipping all the trees back and forth. Sherlock had planned to create some sort of shelter after they found a suitable place, but he'd been forced to land and try to protect them both from the storm.

Molly was the one that had found the caves hidden by an overgrowth of vegetation which Sherlock had torn down so that they could find their way inside. It had taken a lot of cleaning up, but between the two of them, they managed to get the caves into a condition that might be considered liveable.

And the two of them would have stayed there quite happily, making experiments and living peaceful (and unmarried) lives.

But that wouldn't make much of a story, now would it?


	2. In Which John interrupts two Kings Bickering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft enlists John to find Sherlock and Molly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Not quite as long as the first one, but baby steps!

“This disaster is completely your fault.”

“How is it my fault? You're the one who made the Woman angry. Sherlock would still be a man if not for you.”

“It's because of those trade debts.”

“Leave the trade debts out of it.”

“The trade debts were the only reason I even considered Sherlock as a husband for my Molly. Oh, dear Molly, probably scared out of her wits -” 

*~*~*

A loud explosion rent the air, and Molly dived behind a rock as pieces of shrapnel shot in every direction.

“Wow,” she said, peering out from behind it. “Did you know that would happen?”

“No,” Sherlock admitted. “I largely suspected, because of the relative density of the rock and the propulsion power of my water jet...”

“Liar, Sherlock,” said Molly.

She got out a scroll and a quill, scribbling something down before looking up at Sherlock's scaly face. 

“Do you reckon you could do it again?”

“Science is all about replicating results,” Sherlock said, aiming his face at another boulder.

*~*~*

“I rather suspect that she helped engineer this entire debacle,” said Mycroft, stroking his chin.

Molly's father, the King of Alendale, rested his head in his hands. “Is there no hope of their recovery?”

At that very moment, someone knocked at the open door.

“Scuse me, gents, someone called?”

A knight stood on the other side of the doorway, hand raised in greeting. His short stature gave no indication of the strength needed to wear the heavy chainmail and plate armour encasing his body. Short blondish hair and blue eyes completed the picture, apart from the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sir John Watson, at your service,” the knight said helpfully. “In case it wasn't apparent?”

“Sir John, of course,” Mycroft said, appearing relieved. He turned to King Alendale. “This man is the answer to our problems.”

“A knight?” said King Alendale. “I have knights. You have knights. Why do we need this one in particular?”

“This knight is legendary!” said Mycroft. “Surely you have heard of him? Oh, I suppose you would only know the stories.”

John waited patiently for the monarchs to get their silly babble out of the way. He knew why he was here. There could be no other reason.

“What stories?” demanded King Alendale.

“Surely you know the stories of the White Wanderer?” said Mycroft.

John rolled his eyes. What a stupid name, but it was the bard that had given it to him, so what could he do. 

“The one who slew the dreaded Wyrm of Northlia?” asked King Alendale. “The one who swam with sirens and lived to tell the tale? The feller of the Grim Giant, the rider of griffins, the eater of fire?”

King Alendale looked askance at John.

“Really? Him?”

John sighed. No one ever believed him. Without a word, he unslung his shield from his back. It still shone silver and white, no matter how much he used it. A gifted mage had once given it to him as a gift because the one he usually used kept getting dented. It was round and had a white tree in the middle.

King Alendale's eyes went wide with awe and a touch of fear.

“His sword vanquishes demons!” he said. 

“It does,” John said. “But that's not what I'm here for.”

“That's true,” Mycroft said. “He's here because I need him to retrieve our children safely.”

John nodded. He had expected as much. It's all that he'd heard on his way to the palace, the tale of a prince-turned-dragon and a princess flying off together to place and land unknown.

“How is he supposed to find them?” asked King Alendale. “I still think that we should send an army to scour the lands -”

“Finding them would take months or years with an army,” Mycroft said. “Armies are slow. Need to move at the whim of a commander. This mission needs one sole individual who can find the pair without alerting them.”

King Alendale sighed, shoulders slumping. 

“Fine,” he said. “Just take care of it, Mycroft, I want my daughter back. Without Sherlock, she'd never have escaped.”

“Without you, Sherlock would never have escaped either,” said Mycroft. “I'll deal with the matter. Not to worry.”

Once King Alendale had left, Mycroft turned to John, looking him up and down.

“As much as I boasted of your feats earlier, I still have my doubts about you,” Mycroft said silkily.

John shrugged. “I'll be going, then. I've made friends of kings and queens on three continents. I don't need your aid. You need mine.”

John turned to go.

“Wait,” Mycroft said, an edge of panic in his voice. “You're correct. No one else can do this mission.”

John turned back around. “Why do you doubt me?”

“No one can handle Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “I could hardly contain him as a human, and now he's a dragon. You're not exactly a dragon wrangler. I don't see how I can expect you to bring back my brother when all he has to do is fly away.”

“That's no problem,” John said. “He's with a girl, right? One he was supposed to marry. True love's first kiss reverses pretty much any spell.”

“Be that as it may -”

Mycroft paused mid-speech and snapped his mouth shut. He looked at John very closely for a few long seconds, before nodding slowly. 

“That is correct. True love's first kiss _does_ reverse any spell.”

John nodded, if a little warily.

“I'll be on my way then,” John said.

“How do you expect to find them?” asked Mycroft.

“He's a bloody big dragon; it's pretty hard to hide one of those,” John said.

“Even so, I will give you this amulet,” Mycroft said, reaching into an ornate box and pulling out a necklace with a red crystal. “This stone will start to glow the closer that you get to Sherlock.”

John took it without a word. He did not want to know what type of blood magic a man like Mycroft played with, and certainly not a man who would track his own brother with it.

Mycroft suddenly said, “Before you go, John, you should know that I am very protective of my younger brother. Very protective.”

John nodded. He'd figured that. Not just anyone could summon him to their side, no matter what John had said about kings and queens earlier. Anyone who needed John for a quest paid a hefty price – not to John – but to their people. Mycroft would be donating millions of gold to the poor for the next decade in exchange for him finding Sherlock. Mycroft was definitely _very_ protective of his brother.

John would just need to be careful, that's all.


	3. In Which John Meets Greg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is setting out on his quest to find Sherlock. What obstacles might this intrepid knight face? Meanwhile, are Sherlock and Molly having second thoughts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> I'm back! It was a rough three weeks. I just started a new job, so I was just learning the ropes. This is the first weekend I've had that wasn't completely hectic.
> 
> Good news! I've handed in my full draft of my thesis to my committee. Very soon, I will have a defence date, and then I will be a Master of the Arts. What this means for you guys? More writing time for Sherlock and John.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

John Watson, Knight of the Seven Realms, made his way to the stable to find his trusty steed. As he was making his way through Mycroft's castle, he noticed that there was someone following him. Surely news of his quest hadn't spread so fast that there were already enemies to fight?

John waited until they were in a fairly deserted area of the castle to make his move. Without much effort, he managed to pin the person following him against a wall.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he demanded, reaching for his sword.

“Wait, wait!” his captive reached up and pulled back his hood.

“You're Captain of the Guard,” said John, relaxing slightly. “Why are you following me?”

“I have to go with you,” said the Captain, running a hand through his greying hair. 

John raised his eyebrows and said nothing.

“I have to, it's a matter of great importance,” said the Captain. “I can't really explain further...”

“Is it a curse of some sort?” asked John with a frown.

“You could say that,” the Captain said, his mouth twisting wryly.

“I'm John,” said John, reaching out a hand.

“Greg Lestrade,” said the Captain. “Anyway, anyone who hasn't been living under a rock knows who you are.”

“Not usually on first sight, actually,” John said.

The two of them chatted amiably for a short while as John made his way toward the stables. Greg seemed like a good sort, and John actually wouldn't mind a travelling companion.

The two of them were stopped in their tracks as yet another robed figure stepped out from behind a pillar and held out a hand to halt them.

John sighed.

“Yes, what do you want?”

The figure said, “You will fail in your quest, Sir John!”

Greg squinted at the figure and said, “Anderson?”

The figure made a small, outraged noise before slumping in defeat.

“How'd you know it was me?” Anderson demanded.

“Not too many overdramatic fellows in wizarding robes wandering around the palace,” Greg said.

“Why do you say we'll fail?” asked John.

Anderson drew himself up and said, “How could a bone-headed knight like you discover the whereabouts of Prince Sherlock when I, the most powerful mage in the kingdom, failed?”

“Weren't you the one to make this?” asked John, pulling out the glowing pendant.

Anderson snarled in outrage. “He gave it to _you_?” 

“I am the one doing all the footwork in this case, so yes,” John retorted.

“It's an imperfect artifact,” said Anderson. “It only tells you which direction to go, not exact coordinates. You could be wandering for months without knowing Sherlock's location. Not to mention, a dragon can fly 20 leagues a day, and you can only ride 4 in the same time.”

(A league is 5.5 km)

“We'll manage,” said John. “Let's go, Greg.”

“You mean I can come with you?” Greg asked in astonishment.

“I'd prefer to have a travelling companion to someone following me at a distance any day,” John said. “I figure that if I said no, you'd just tail me all the way to Sherlock's location.”

“And Molly's,” said Greg.

A certain understanding came to John in that instant.

He nodded.

“Let's go,” he repeated.

The two of them mounted up, leaving Anderson behind.

“Where to first?” asked Greg.

“The crystal says to go straight through the forest, which obviously isn't the best route for us,” John said. “I'm just going to take a look at my map and figure out if there's a road that eventually goes in the right direction.”

“That's pretty smart,” Greg said.

“Not too bad for a bone-headed knight, right?” John said, grinning. His face fell a second later. “There's almost nothing that way. A small road, sparsely travelled heads that direction, and there's a distant settlement... on the edge of the Wasting Sea.”

“That's where they went?” Greg asked, and whistled. “Brave of them.”

“And we have to follow,” John said grimly. He took another look at the map and laughed.

“What's so funny?” asked Greg.

“It says right here on the map: Here there be Dragons.”

“A good sign, that,” Greg said.

The two of them set off into the morning light.

*~*~*

Princess Molly of the Kingdom of Arendale looked out at the red sun setting on the Wasting Sea. She sat down on the edge of a high cliff and watched the sea birds fly overhead. She sighed deeply.

Why was she feeling so melancholy? She had done it, hadn't she? She'd escaped marriage to a lecherous old man and her familial duties to her kingdom in one successful escape attempt. She was doing what she loved – experimenting with science. As a princess, she had never been allowed to pursue her interests. Half the time, she'd been learning political manipulation, and the other half she'd been applying it. She hated it.

What was wrong, then? She had everything she'd wanted now. She even had a friend, of sorts, even if Sherlock was overdramatic and self-centred at times.

As if summoned by stray thoughts, Sherlock himself ambled out across the cliffs, and upon sighting her, headed in her direction. Very carefully, he settled himself next to her, shading her from the wind with one of his wings.

“Something wrong?” he rumbled.

“I don't know, Sherlock,” she said. “Something is missing, isn't it?”

Sherlock sighed as well, and nodded his large scaly head.

“I thought this is what I wanted,” Molly continued. “We're free, aren't we? Why do I feel so dissatisfied?”

“It's because there's only so much science to do on this small island,” Sherlock said. “We can't stay here forever, but what comes after isn't clear.”

“We can't go back,” Molly said. “We'd be trapped again.”

“No,” Sherlock said. “We need to think of something else. If only I wasn't a dragon. We could travel around the country in disguise and explore the Seven Realms.”

“I've never been outside Arendale except for when we were supposed to be married,” Molly said. “I'd love to visit the rest of the world. Even beyond the Seven Realms!”

“No one knows what's beyond the borders,” Sherlock said. “I've always wondered...”

“Well, then, what we need to do is figure out how to make you a man again,” Molly said.

“There has to be a way,” Sherlock said. “Every spell has a way to reverse it.”

“Where do we start?” asked Molly.

“We need books on magic,” said Sherlock. “We need to go find a town that has a bookstore.”

“The closest town to the Wasting Sea was that one we passed over on the coast, remember?” Molly said. “Should we start there?”

“I can fly us there, but then I have to hide while you go into the town,” said Sherlock. “You'd be alone.”

“I think I can handle it,” Molly said.

“We'll go tomorrow then,” said Sherlock.

The two of them watched the sun set, content with their plan of action.


End file.
